


Paths Crossing

by LLewtwo



Series: Echoes And Sources [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crack Treated Seriously, Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is bad at apologizing, F/M, Gen, Kenshin getting stabbed, M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), no beta we die like men, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-12-15 22:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLewtwo/pseuds/LLewtwo
Summary: You never know who might be interfering in your life.Kenshin doesn't realize he has other immortal beings involved (nominally) in his life, until one day he does.Crowley decides to make the best of a bad situation and loves to stir things upAziraphael has a crisis of faith (I mean books, a crisis of books).Eventually all is revealed.This is a side fic to Chapter 1 and in between chapters 5 and 6 of Echos of Your Silence, as well as before chapter 8, perhaps again later.





	1. An Unwelcome Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I'm stuck while working on the most recent chapter of our Kenshin fic, and so...here you go! This popped into my head instead :D I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think :D
> 
> \- LLewtwo
> 
> Many appreciative beta credits to Popjeckdoom

**Hell, Unknown Time, Unknown Season, 1891**

Beelzebub is annoyed. You can tell, due to the large amount of flies buzzing wildly around zir head, and the occasional wasp which has angrily found itself joining the swarm. They glare at the broken doorway that Lucifer recently departed through, and try to think of a way to get out of this assignment. Zir flicks their gaze to the chair which usually holds a random minion, only to realize that the minion was the one they squished into jelly earlier after an assignment went badly. “ _ Blazzzzt.” _

Nothing for it. They will have to go to  _ Earth _ . And right in the middle of this damn project too! Their eyes are drawn down to the corner of their desk where an asian giant hornet is crawling over a neglected stack of reports...reports from...Crawley.

“Yezzzz. We will zend this job to the Liazzzzon…” Zir hisses with satisfaction, and dragging a sheet of faintly smoking paper over to the center of their desk, begins to write the task to their least favorite brother.

* * *

**London, England, Evening, July 23rd, 1891**

Crowly swirls with a titter toward her carriage, waiving to Lady Gladstone and her husband, “Until next month then! I look forward to seeing you at the theater!”

The increasingly more progressive young Lady Gladstone waves with abandon at her friend, and Lord Gladstone retreats with relief into the house.

She is handed into the carriage by the footman, and as the door closes and she takes a self-satisfied breath, she realizes something is amiss. 

On the seat across from her in the dark carriage, is a black envelope, sealed with dark red wax in an infernal sigil. It smells slightly of brimstone in the enclosed space.

With shaking fingers she reaches a delicately gloved hand out to gather up the missive, and exhales into a boneless slump against the seat behind her. The carriage lurches into motion, and Miss Crowly’s eyes flash a subtle yellow past the glamor while she considers the letter. 

So...she has been tracked down then.  _ What do they want now. _

With a decisive flick of her finger the sigil opens with a flash of hellfire and smoke, and she unfolds the letter. Despite her glasses, she easily reads the slightly glowing letters in the dim light.

\------

~Crawly -

Our Lord has an assignment for you. It appears the other side may be setting something in motion in Asia. You must go to the country of Japan and investigate. There have been odd surges in power in that area, and If something is going on you need to find it and stop it. I don’t want to hear anything further about it. Take care of the problem.

~B

\------

_ Well. _

Crowley flicks her fingers, no compulsion against using a miracle on an official assignment, and **he** slips out of the carriage, immaculately dressed in current fashion. Sliding dark glasses in front of his eyes, he steps into the London crowd.

The footman and driver don’t notice that the carriage is now empty, other than a crumpled gown and a mystery. 

* * *

**Kyoto, Japan, August 21st, 1891**

**Late Evening**

Crowley adjusts his glasses, but rather happily saunters down the dark street, enjoying the break from London high society. A brief surge of unknown energy had narrowed down his search to this area, and it hadn’t been hard to pose as a young swordsman from outside the city. He is actually enjoying the fashion as well. Very different, but a throwback to robes.

Unfortunately, he’s no closer to discovering what’s going on. 

He has insinuated himself with some young men eager to prove themselves, and really is starting to get bored of the whole thing. Other than that brief surge of unusual power that drew him to this part of Kyoto a few days ago, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

Perhaps it’s time to stir up some trouble.

Slipping into the local watering hole where he usually meets up with the others he saunters up to the bar. He notices an almost european looking fellow with a scar across his face...rather pretty, if he wasn’t so obviously drowning his sorrows. Crowley buys a bottle of sake and sits down with his “friends” refiling their drinks. “Who is that?” he asks.

Yagato lifts his gaze to the mysterious man, downing his glass in one go before answering. “I don’t know really.” He shrugs, “He’s in here so often I’m beginning to think he’s glued to the seat.” He says with a smirk.

Sato speaks up, gesturing with his free hand, “So old fashioned.” He shakes his head subtly, “And that hair...I haven’t seen anyone wearing that style around here. I’m sure father could say for sure - but not since the Bakumatsu at least. Not since that hitokiri guy started wearing it everywhere.” His voice colors with suspicion the longer he speaks.

Crowley notices the red-head’s shoulders subtly tense at the mention of the hitokiri.

Yagoto, already well on his way to angry-drunk, scoffs, “Oh, that guy’s long dead.” He pours another glass, “The government isn’t going to let a manslayer walk around. That’s just common sense. Especially not after all those other guys - I hear one of them lit a dojo on fire, burning everyone alive.” His voice has lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, and they all look up at Kenshin’s back, hunched over his drink.

This is easier than he thought it would be. “Of course not,” Crowley interjects, “they would never have allowed him to go free after that…” he pauses, lengthening out the moment, “...if they caught him.” He nods at the tensed shoulders of their target of discussion. Yagoto and the others nod thoughtfully.

Suddenly Sato snorts, “You’re all paranoid.” Setting the others to laughing, “If you’re so sure the guy’s a manslayer just walk up and ask - not like he can do anything when he’s that drunk.” He shakes his head, smirking the dare at his friends.

Crowley nudges Yagoto with a low whisper, “Are you going to just let him talk to you like that?! You aren’t afraid of some random swordsman, are you?”

Yagoto’s face darkens, and he shoves away from the table, Sato and Tanaka eagerly standing with his example, their chairs scraping against the floor. Crowley slowly stands, stepping into the back of their group as Yagoto turns to confront the stranger.

Bolstered by liquid courage and the presence of his companions, Yagoto calls out at the stranger’s back, “Hey, red!” He steps up to loom over his shoulder, “You trying to be a manslayer?”

“Go away,” The man growls flatly.

“Ooo..” chorused the others, Crowley nudges Sato. Ooo..wait. 

Did anyone else feel that? Crowley narrows his eyes at the back of the tense swordsman. Something was...

Yagoto steps closer, the others egging him on, “You didn’t answer me. Why are you dressed like that and who do you think you are, Foreigner?” his voice drips with bravado and he shoves Kenshin’s shoulder, “This is our town and you can’t just ignore our questions.”

_ Unholy _ …Crowley takes a step back as he feels the energy in the room spike and then go completely flat. 

The strange swordsman slowly stands, pushing his money over the bar. He sways subtly, but the bartender has already backed away from the counter, eyeing both parties and the door. He also can feel the tension in the room. 

This is ...not one of  _ them _ _ . Who is he _ ? 

The man turns his face partially, speaking over his shoulder, “Please move,” he says shortly. 

Sato and the others continue to jeer, not noticing that Crowley has backed nearly to the door, watching the anger flare across the red haired mans face.

“Answer the question!” Yagoto demands, shoving Kenshin back against the bar. His sheathed sword hit the wood, drawing their attention to its' location on his hip. “Trying to be a swor….” he started, before the man snapped forward, elbowing him in the face and knocking him back into Tanaka and Sato.

Quickly they stagger back up, each drawing a weapon, Sato holding up his fists. The man shifts his weight slightly and grasps the hilt of his blade as the bartender breaks and makes a run for the door. 

Crowley steps to the side, enthralled at the scene, but not wanting to get caught up in the brawl to come.  _ This was the source of energy he’d been seeking? _

“That’s it! You’ll pay for that!” Yagoto yells, diving at the swordsman with knife in hand and blood still dripping from his nose. The swordsman barely shifts, smoothly brushing him to the side with just the hilt of partially drawn blade, causing him to stumble into the bar. 

Tanaka lunges forward with his knife drawn and the man partially blocks, but it still grazes his side and he grunts, leaning back for a split second before kicking Tanaka back into Sato and drawing his sword. Sato darts forward, and soon it is just an exchange of blows between the three attackers and the drunk swordsman. A chair is destroyed as Sato falls into it, and the man lightly jumps over a table, staggering slightly as he lands and backing closer to the door.

Yagoto jumps in almost hitting him in the side but is deflected, causing a slice on the mans arm. Tanaka makes another lunge with his knife, but the swordsman strikes him across the side of the head as he backs out into the street, giving himself more room, and Tanaka slumps unconscious into the dirt. 

Not wanting to miss anything, Crowley snaps his fingers and suddenly is outside without having to run the gauntlet of the door. 

He discovers he misjudged the speed of the swordsman when he is knocked back into the dirt with a kick to his chest, and he groans slightly having hit his head against the building. The red-haired swordsman's eyes flash with anger, and Crowley lifts his hands in surrender.

Sato draws his blade as he runs out into the street beside them, throwing it at the swordsman who is momentarily focused on Crowley. The man’s eyes narrow with pain and he grunts as it hits home, sinking into his gut with surprising accuracy. The gold eyed man stumbles, one hand going to the hilt of the blade now buried in his side, the blood beginning to soak into his clothing. 

Whistles shrilly calling can be heard in the distance.

Sato and Yagoto look up. “Police” Sato hisses, and they run off, leaving Crowley and Tanaka to fend for themselves.

The injured swordsman stumbles across the street and into the darkened alleyway.

_Well, guess that’s it then._ Even if he is the source of the power, he won’t survive a gut wound.

Crowley melts into snake form and slithers away as the police run into the light spilling from the doorway, running in organized chaos as they chase the remaining brawlers.

  
The snake disappears into the night.


	2. A book and a crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin visits a bookshop, on his way to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Part two (of now 3) of our little Good Omens/Kenshin crossover. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for your wonderful comments and all the kudos!! <3
> 
> -LLewtwo

**Soho, London, England, December 4th, 1940**

**A Z Phel & Co. Books**

Aziraphale awakens again, unable to force himself asleep any longer. The pain is less, during the day. The overwhelming miasma of fear and uncertainty, of grief. He can feel the city around him, and it is suffering. There are notes of hope as well, selfless acts of love and moments of fierce joy. Such capacity to feel, these wonderful people. He heads downstairs and has a cup of tea before starting his day.

He begins straightening up his shop, trying to justify to himself not interfering in the blitz. He is just about to give up cleaning as a lost cause and just miracle the shop dusted when he hears the front door chime. He thought the door had been locked, and was about to tell whoever it is to step off when a small, but fit red haired man (in uniform) looks up and meets his eyes. Aziraphale is startled to see someone with violet eyes, and his first thought is perhaps this is Gabriel, having been discorporated and now in a new body. Then he realizes that’s silly - Gabriel never leaves heaven.

“Excuse me please. Is this shop open?” the sailor speaks with an obvious accent, and then offers a warm smile.

“Why, of course my boy. Please look around and let me know if you have any questions.” He replies, now curious as to who this visitor is. He reaches out his awareness cautiously, and his eyes widen at the sheer aura of power this unassuming fellow puts off. Power, but...unfamiliar. Not one of his side then, at least not someone he knows. But it doesn’t seem demonic either...curious. He exhales with a sigh, and realizes he’s been staring as the man browses the stacks, quickly looking away.  _ ‘Get yourself together! You’re probably just feeling oversensitive with all the suffering about.’ _

The man looks up, locating him “Oro...do you have, poetry?” He furrows his brow, as if not exactly sure how to ask what he’s looking for. 

“Are you looking for any particular author, or type of poetry?”

The sailor hums to himself, and then sets down his bag and pulls a letter out of his breast pocket, “I do not know...the author. But this - or similar to this poem?” 

Aziraphael catches the flash of sadness and uncertainty that crosses the man’s otherwise calm face before he extends the letter. Walking over to accept it, he unfolds the worn paper.

\----

My Dear Kenshin,

I came across this poem, and could not but think of you. I know I have not replied for some weeks since your last letter, and I send my apologies with this note. I am helping my boy to prepare for war, and trying to set my house in order in the case I will also be gone. I do not have much time to write, but I promise I will write again soon. I hope these words find you well, and safe in these trying times. Let me know what you think of this one - I was reminded of the last one you sent by Miura Chora.

Within this restless, hurried, modern world

We took our hearts' full pleasure - You and I,

And now the white sails of our ship are furled,

And spent the lading of our argosy.

Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,

For very weeping is my gladness fled,

Sorrow has paled my young mouth's vermilion,

And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.

But all this crowded life has been to thee

No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell

Of viols, or the music of the sea

That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell.

\--All my best,

Henry

\----

“Oh. How beautiful!” Aziriphael actually has to blink away tears for a moment. Touched by the emotions at play in the words. “I fear I don’t have anything by this Miura Chora, but I do have some poetry by Oscar Wilde, as well as a number of his other works. He really was quite prolific as an author.” After returning the letter he begins going through the stacks, picking a book here and there, returning some and taking others, holding them in one arm. “You are Kenshin then? From the letter?”

Kenshin smiles, “I am.”

“Well, we will find you something appropriate. Wilde was much into aestheticism in his works, the importance of art for the sake of art.” He pulls one more book, and then heads to the counter, Kenshin following behind.

“I want to learn more of this man. His work was -” he shifted into Japanese briefly, looking for words, “Utsukushī tamashī...ah...beauty in my soul?” Kenshin smiles up at Aziriphael who is beaming back at him. 

“He has other works besides poetry also...alright, here we have a collection of his plays" he gestures to the first book on the counter, "some are better than others, but you would likely enjoy them.” He sets a second book on the counter, “This one is signed - first edition by the way - Poetry,” with the final book he concludes, “and this one is by a different author, a collection of his letters.”

Kenshin hesitates, then looks up at him, “Is it alright if I touch them?”

“Yes, thank you for asking.” He beams back, pleased that not only is this man appreciative of literature, but he knows the value of books.

Carefully, Kenshin picks up the book of plays, looking through the contents and skimming a few pages. He sets it back on the counter, picking up the letters, and then after returning that one, looks through the book of poems. Aziraphael watches his eyes light up and the emotions crossing his face from time to time as he looks through the pages. He exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I think that is the one for you, correct?” He offers a soft smile, his eyes twinkling.

Kenshin looks briefly startled, then flushes before answering, “I...Yes. Please this one. How much do you wish for this?”

“Oh, I am sure I have another copy. 12 shillings?”

Kenshin pulls out the still unfamiliar currency, and Aziraphel helps him pay and provides his change. Wrapping the book in paper and string, he smiles at the happiness radiating off of the red-haired sailor, and waves at his gratitude and farewell when Kenshin leaves the shop, the door ringing once more.

It is only a few minutes later when his view narrows, and he has to remind himself to catch his breath as he begins to panic, “I just sold a book!”


	3. Odd weather we're having

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin goes out for lunch, and visits a bookshop.   
He has some fantastic tea, and gets a book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muahahahahaha! Yes we have updated again! All at once! Thanks to all of you for the kudos! Please let me know what you think, I love reading your comments and discussing fun things in discord with you. :D

**Soho, London, England, Fall 2019**

Kenshin walked slowly, James Green chattering away beside him as they meandered down the street. James insisted that Kenshin visit the cafe he wanted to buy, to see if he thought it was a good investment. Well, that and try to convince him to help purchase it. As they walked, Kenshin couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja-vu. He recognized this street from...sometime. But what would he have been down here for before now? He didn’t often make it to this part of London.

James turned the corner of the block, and then across the street, Kenshin saw it. In the window of the shop across the way was a friendly looking fellow with his sleeves rolled up, a cream waistcoat, bow tie, and white curls. He appeared to be dusting. It took James a few steps before he realized Kenshin had paused, but then he came back, “What is it, Uncle? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”, his voice had a slight tone of concern but his expression was curious.

“No I…” Kenshin tried to pull his scattered thoughts together.  _ ‘It couldn’t be. That’s impossible.’  _ He flashed a reassuring smile at his nephew-by-heart, and then glanced back to the storefront, which was now empty. He turned back to James and replied, “It is nothing. I thought I saw someone I recognized in that shop. But it was probably my imagination. Where is this cafe?”  _ ‘It had after all, been many years.’ _

James grinned, “Right over here!” James pulled him by the elbow further down the row of shops, and pointed out a narrow space with a wide window. The real estate sign was in the window, although the store was still open. A few customers were enjoying a cozy seating area near a fireplace in the back, and a counter to one side had a sign with an array of tea and coffee options displayed. Kenshin noticed the small stage to one side, which he assumed gave them the option of live music from time to time. 

Following James to the counter, they both ordered some coffee and then retreated to one of the tables against the wall. Soft music played in the background, and the general ambiance was comfortable and welcoming.

“So what do you think?” James practically vibrated. That was a trait that seemed to run in the family. “I know it’s a bit of an abrupt decision, but I really like it! I think I could be happy here!” He pointed out a stairway leading up behind the counter, “There is even living space upstairs. I wouldn’t need to buy a separate flat.”

“Are you sure you want to run a shop? I think your mother had her heart set on you being a musician.” Kenshin sipped his coffee, appreciating its warmth and flavor. The weather had been absolutely dreadful this year. A few weeks of storms and heat and freezing cold, then suddenly almost normal. Today was grey and a bit chilly, but at least it seemed like it should be. 

James’s voice oozed with earnestness, “I am sure that I will be much happier with this shop, then I would ever be with the band. It’s time for me to move on.” He glanced around the shop, a sense of proprietary joy in his expression, “I think this is the place I need to be.”

Kenshin smiled, warmth for his family nearly bursting from him, “Then this is where you will be.”

James reached across the table, grasping his arm in excitement, “Thank you, Uncle. I promise I won’t let you down with this. I’ll make it work.”

The bell on the door chimes, bringing a rush of wet air from the rainy outdoors and a tall, lanky fellow all in black. Wearing sunglasses. In the rain. He is  _ oddly  _ familiar. James continues talking about his plans for the cafe when Kenshin notices the new arrival isn’t dripping.  _ ‘Must have just missed the downpour.’ _

“Do you want another?”

Kenshin comes back to the conversation, barely catching James’ question. “Ah. I think I’m good. I do not wish to be awake all night.”  _ ‘Not that it really keeps me up -’  _

The sunglass wearing redhead walked to the counter and looked over the menu, he stares for a while, frowns subtly, and Kenshin watches him snap his fingers as James gets up to get back in line. It is perhaps the only reason that Kenshin notices the words appear on the board that were not there before. “I’ll have - 6 of those.” The man orders, pointing out the newly printed ‘Eclairs’.

The barista glances at the menu in surprise, and then she shrugs, and looking around, pulls some eclairs out from under the counter, placing them carefully in a box. “Looks like you got the last six. I didn’t think the chef was in today!” she smiled.

“Guess I’m just lucky then.” The man replied smoothly. He paid for his order and then left the shop - Kenshin watching him go.

* * *

About an hour later Kenshin and James part ways. Kenshin with a promise to send over his investment portion, and James with a promise to make an offer on the cafe before morning. The rain has lulled, and with the brief break in the clouds, Kenshin makes his way back to the corner of the block. 

He can’t help but look across the street once more, and the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. The shop. The man. 

This is the bookstore.

It’s literally been _over_ _ half a century  _ but he remembers the kindness and warm aura of the man with the curly white-blond hair. He remembers the shop, and he still has well loved book of poems. 

How is it possible? Who is this…

Without thinking about it further, he steps across the street, and into the dim entrance of A.Z. Fell & Co. Books. The door rings as he enters, just the same as in his memory. Some of the shelving has moved, and there is (if possible) even more books than he remembers. 

“One moment!” he hears muffled from the back. He takes a couple more steps inside as he waits, clasping his hands behind his back in an unconscious parade rest. He turns to face the stairway as he hears someone coming down, and is surprised to see the red haired man from the cafe rather than the bookseller.    
  


“Um. Did you want something?” The man asks.

He’s still wearing sunglasses.

“Oro..ah, yes? A book?”

“Well...An...Az...Mr. Fell will be back soon. You can -”, he waves his hands generally at the shop, “browse or something.”

They stand awkwardly staring at each other for a moment.

“Do I know you?” Kenshin asks curiously, “You look so familiar -”

“Well, I am rather memorable.” The man smirks and shrugs, “I’m in here pretty often, so you may have seen me before.”

Kenshin knows that isn’t it, but it seems he isn’t going to get an answer either. Ah well, when he’s been around as long as he has, many people look familiar. “I haven’t been in here for...well, a very long time.”

The man seems about to reply when a flash of relief crosses his face. The bookseller comes into the entry from further in the store; a look of some apprehension on his face, “Ah, did you need something?”

He looks the same. Not just similar, but identical.

“Oro!” Kenshin says breathlessly, _this - this just isn’t possible. Could this be another one touched by the Banilla?_ “But you...Oscar Wilde!”

The man frowns subtly and then his face pales. “The sailor!”

Kenshin is startled again when there is a blur of black and he is suddenly shoved back against the door, the red haired man snarling in is face, his presence now much more malevolent and crackling in the air around him, “Who are you? Who sent you?!”

“Himura! My name is Himura Kenshin!” He squeaks out, immediately regretting leaving his sword at home upon noticing the fangs. He goes limp, trying to seem non-threatening. This man must be the source of the power in the room. “No one sent me! I just...wanted… Poems - a book!”

“My dear.” He hears the bookseller in an abashed tone. The previously innocuous fellow slowly lets him down as the white haired man gently grasps his shoulder. “It is alright, Crowley,” the man says, trying to soothe him. “Please let him down, dearest.”

Kenshin is lowered back to the floor, the now named Crowley is still subtly snarling and standing half in front of his companion, radiating his distrust. “I can feel him now. He’s not…not from my side. One of yours, Angel?” Crowley asks over his shoulder.

“No dear. I met him shortly before the church incident.”

Crowley glances at the bookseller in disbelief, “In the ‘40s?”

Kenshin’s mind has been spinning, and suddenly he recognizes where he’s seen the black clad man before, “Oro!! You too?? You’re one of the men from night of Banilla, in Kyoto!”  _ His mind is spinning,  _ “This isn’t possible. I must be losing my mind. I knew it would happen eventually!”

They both look at him, and then the bookseller glances at Crowley who snaps his fingers before everything goes black.

* * *

Kenshin awakens all at once, and immediately tests the bonds he can feel trapping him against...something soft? This must be a method of torture he is unfamiliar with. 

“Oh,” he hears, “He is awake dearest!” The bookseller comes into view, smiling softly at him, “Would you like some tea?”

Kenshin blinks, “I am...tied up?”

The kind faced man just stares at him for a moment. 

“Yes please.” Kenshin says. ‘ _ What is going on?? Who is this bookseller and who is the man from Kyoto?’ _

He can hear the man puttering around and the sound of tea being poured before he appears again, handing him a blue teacup with delicate inlay that reminds Kenshin suddenly of his time in the monastery. He lifts his eyes to the man who smiles again, and Kenshin can’t help but feel much calmer than he did a moment ago. 

Then he realizes the ropes are gone.

“Oro!” His eyes widen, and he talks a sip of tea, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Angel!” Crowley comes into view and stops, glancing at both of them and the teacups. “What are you..Argh!! You can’t just let him out and give him tea!”

“But I already did dear.” Angel smiles at Crowley who slumps onto the couch sitting beside the white haired man.

“Fine.” He sighs.

Wait...wasn’t that just a one seated chair a moment ago?? Thats it, his mind is gone.  _ Lost. I’ve gone insane, the poor Greens will have to do without me from now on. _

“Angel. He’s spiraling.” Crowley nudges the bookseller. The man glances back at Kenshin whose face has gone blank and is now breathing too fast.

“Oh dear. Take a deep breath and then drink some tea dear, it will help you feel better. That’s it - in and out, in and out.” 

Kenshin breathes along with the instructions, allowing himself to be soothed. There is something calming about the bookseller.  _ Why was he upset anyway? This is lovely tea. _

Crowley sighs again, and lifts a mug of coffee to his lips. 

When did he get the coffee?

“I’ll go first.” The bookseller smiles kindly at him, and Kenshin can’t help but relax again, at least partially. “We have met before dear boy. I am Mr. Fell. Perhaps you can tell me how you managed to survive the war?”

Kenshin glances at Crowley, unsure if he can trust them both, but then with another sip of tea decides to continue, “Well, I seem to be immortal, that I do. I was still somewhat young when I met your friend,” he eyes the still sunglassed man, “when he was trying to help a man try to kill me.” 

“Crowley!” Mr. Fell glances at his friend with an almost resigned look.”

“Demon.” Crowley shrugs. As if that explains anything.

He considers his tea, was he being drugged? He takes another sip and then continues, “So, the police came, and then I pulled myself to an ally - I was pretty sure I was going to die.” He sips the tea, “But when I awoke, I was bandaged, and there were these odd pouches..”

“Hmm, I see. What happened then?” Mr. Fell encourages him to continue.

“I drank the Banilla.” Kenshin scans both of their faces, hoping and dreading that they will know what he is talking about. “In the yellow pouch.” They both just continue to listen. Crowley crosses his legs and sits back, one arm behind Mr. Fell over the back of the loveseat.

Kenshin, with a flash of disappointment, takes another sip of his tea. They must not be like him after all. But something else. “Ah..well, I lived. And now I look like this. I came to London during the war to see my friend.” he looks up at the bookseller, “The one from the letters, and I did find him. We fought in the war together.” He trails off for a moment and shrugs softly, looking down at his tea. “We both survived. Came back..and then..well, years passed. I lived. He died.” 

Mr. Fell makes an empathetic noise and leans forward, watching him sadly. “I am so sorry for your loss, dear boy.”

“This one thanks you.” He barely chokes out. For some reason he can’t keep the emotion out of his voice. It has been so many years since he has missed his friend so dearly.  _ What is in this tea?  _ He takes another sip. Mr. Fell’s friend is oddly silent, but he doesn’t sense any animosity toward him anymore.

“Well.” Mr. Fell stands up and pats him on the shoulder and he feels a wave of comfort. “I’ll go get the biscuits, shall I?”

Crowley slowly leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I..” he flinches as if he is about to do something distasteful, “I am sorry. I treated you rather badly downstairs. We just didn’t know if you were a threat or not.”

Kenshin nods, understanding, and gathers his emotions back up. “I would have done the same, to protect those I love.”

Mr. Fell returns then with a tin of biscuits, and sets it down on the table between them, the top open. “So, that mostly explains your story. I assume you do not know the origin of the “Banilla” you spoke of?”

Kenshin shakes his head as Mr. Fell sits back down. “Well, A rather unusual story!” he smiles kindly, and glances over at his shadow, “Crowley and I have been around for ages it seems,” this produces an amused snort from his companion, “We’ve had a rather trying time the last few..” he hesitates, “weeks, and there are some people who don’t feel we deserve to retire in peace.” 

“They would prefer to destroy us.” Crowley grumbles from his reclined position. “So you can understand our reaction to your recognition.”

Frowning, Kenshin bridles at the injustice. These two seem like nice enough young people. They should be able to live in peace if they choose to not be involved in...whatever they were involved in. “I would help if I could. Please let me leave my card? I may not look impressive, but this one is happy to do what I can so others can live in peace.”

Crowley leers, “Oh, well you look plenty..” and is promptly cut off with a smack from Mr. Fell. “Thank you dear boy. I would be happy to have your information.”

The evening seems to wrap up quickly, and Kenshin finds himself outside a short time later with another book of poems and realizes he still doesn’t know how those two have lived so long. He turns around only to see the shop is dark and locked up. He must have been standing there longer than he had thought. With a sigh, he heads home.


	4. Time is Meaningless, Abandon Hope?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenshin is obsessed, helps create a safe space, and eventually is reminded of why he loves living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This last chapter isn't beta-d and I am really wondering if you like it or not since there are no comments - so...hopefully not terrible? I know this cuts off a bit abruptly at the end, but ah, the only feedback I've had on this was on discord, so -I hope you like it! *bows repeatedly*
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and if you see anything I need to fix! 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos! I hope you enjoy the end of our little interlude :) Also, If you'd like to come chat on our discord about this or the main fic or really anything, come visit! https://discord.gg/AY43Qv

**Screamin’ Beans Coffee and Tea**

**Soho, London, England, Winter, 2019**

Kenshin had noticed a pattern. Every time he thought it would be a good idea to stop by the bookshop, inevitably something came up and he forgot about it until a later time. With James and the Screamin’ Beans just across the street, it wasn’t as if he didn’t walk by there frequently. It was as if his own mind was preventing him from returning.

Somehow, at this point, he didn’t think it was the tea.

“Uncle, you’re doing it again.”

“Oro!” Kenshin was startled from his thoughts, and looked up at James, who was standing beside the table looking at him with a mix of exasperation and concern. 

“If you keep looking out the window with your ‘Murder Face’, no one will come in.” James placed a hand on his shoulder, “Are you sure you’re alright Uncle Kenshin? You’ve been pretty distracted of late.”

Kenshin placed his own had over James’ and smiled reassuringly, “Not to worry, Jamie. I’m just thinking.”

James grins, revealing an impish dimple, much like his ultimate grandfather, “Well think with less ‘Murder Face. We just opened, and we need people to want to come in,” and gestures suggestively to another table.

Kenshin sighed and stood, and walked back over to the corner table where he couldn’t see out the window. 

* * *

**Hell, Time is Meaningless** **TM**

**Post Apoco-nevermind, 2019**

Zir was annoyed. Again. How did they manage to SURVIVE???. They should both be dead. They _deserved_ to die horrible painful screaming melting deaths and never return. This-This just will not stand! Zir slammed their fists into the table. The table obliged by breaking into pieces since after all, this is hell, and nothing was built well. The minion currently assigned to Zir was unhelpfully trembling in the corner of zir office. 

Zir glared at them, smoke literally streaming from them for a moment, “Clean this up.” Zir ordered, feeling _ sort of _ better after destroying something. Something should be done. “And get me another one.” Zir growled, and the minion quickly scrambled to obey.

“Do you really need to make such a scene?” Zir heard in a dry tone. Turning to the doorway, she noticed the unhelpful brightness of her visitor. Heaven-Hell relations had been surprisingly cooperative and cozy with a common enemy to focus on. Well, at least as cooperative as they could be. Until the Holy Water and Hell Fire incident.

Zir glowered again, “Ziss is not a scene. Ziss is juzt how zings are.” Their sibilants gave away the lie of their words. 

He leaned against the doorway, unimpressed, and watched the imp clean up the slivers of desk, “It’s been months,” he looked back up at Zir, “We need to move on with -” He trailed off.

“With ze plan??” Zir quirked their lips wryly, “That worked so well last time, Gabriel.”

Gabriel grunted and frowned, an expression that fit the angel’s face surprisingly well. “Well, we can come up with a new plan. It’s been months! If She wanted us to do something about them, She would have made it possible by now.”

“Time is Meaningless.” Zir intones rotely.

Gabriel snorts, glancing up at the sign on the wall behind Zir that reads,’Time is Meaningless, Abandon Hope’ and then back at Zir, “So I have heard.”

“We should go watch them and come up with a new plan.” Zir announces firmly, striding forward and through the doorway, dragging Gabriel by his elbow down the dark musty passageway. 

“But..” Gabriel starts to object and then notices some Hell has gotten on his jacket, and brushes it off, still following.

“There is a new shop that will do nizzzely.” 

“They will Notice.” The angel frowns, looking down his nose at a passing Succubus who pales and looks away.

“No, there is Another there that will mask our presence.”

Gabriel stops, and it takes a few strides for Zir to notice and turn back. 

“Before you azzk, no, It is not one of ourzz.”

“I would know if it were one of our side.”

They both just stared at each other for a moment. Then silently, they turned and walked together into The Lobby, heading to London.

* * *

**Screamin’ Beans Coffee and Tea**

**Soho, London, England, Winter, 2019**

**Early Friday Evening**

Kenshin was on his fifteenth cup of coffee. He was strangely agitated - coffee didn’t usually have this effect. He started to get up and head toward the window to look out, but was stopped by a sharp knowing look from his nephew who was manning the counter. 

He sat back down in his corner. 

Jamie’s band mates were starting to set up on the platform beside him, but after he nearly dropped the bass guitar while “helping” he was told to go sit and drink some coffee. 

Thus his fifteenth cup. 

He sighed again. Perhaps he should find another teaching position. It had been a few years, and he needed something to occupy his time. 

He smiled to himself, his attention going to Jamie at the counter. He was helping an elderly woman pick out some pastries with her granddaughter. The Greens at the moment were all mostly self-sufficient and James was his current favorite. Kenshin could tell however that even James had reached his limit of patience with Kenshin’s obsession with ‘the neighbors’. 

The tall one, Crowley, hadn’t been back into the shop since that first day. Kenshin had just missed Mr. Fell stopping by for pastries once - or so James had told him. “They’re just a nice couple. Why are you so obsessed with them anyway?” James had said. Kenshin didn’t know what to say besides that he felt they were odd. James had shook his head and went back to ordering specialty teas for the shop. “If you’re really that interested, why don’t you just go talk to them?” Kenshin couldn’t explain how he had tried and it just wasn’t working.

He glanced back over at the band. They were nearly done setting up. This would be the first friday for live music since they opened, and James was hoping for a good turnout. Kenshin had managed to get them a specialty permit to serve wine in the evenings on fridays, along with coffee and tea.

His mind continued to wander. Perhaps he should learn to play another instrument. It would occupy his time for a while, and he could add it to his collection of things he’d already learned to do. This included playing the piano, lute, koto, a few kinds of drums, wood flutes of various cultures, oboe, bassoon, viola, violin, and french horn. Oh, and lap harp. He was very idle one summer. 

Or perhaps he should write another textbook. He had enjoyed correcting many of the inconsistencies from the drivel they were trying to pass off as history in his last one. He’d even been published in a professional journal with the evidence he’d brought forward to disprove a widely held theory on some parts of Japanese culture. But this time, he’d have to pick a different name. This incarnation of himself would be too young to really pull that sort of knowledge off. 

Oxford would probably hire him again. Or he could stop in to MI6 and see who was his current contact. Maybe they would have something for him to do for a bit. Kenshin smiled to himself suddenly as his next thought struck. Even better - he could go to Oxford, ferret out whomever MI6 had set there to watch for him, and then mess with them for a bit. Nothing _ truly _ malicious, just...all in good fun. 

The band began sound checks. Kenshin absently watched while his mind ran away with itself. Who was he kidding. He couldn’t do any of that before ensuring James would be safe here, across the street from...whoever they were. Nice couple or no - there was something off about them.

With another sigh, Kenshin returned his attention to the cafe just in time to see a rather disheveled but intent looking woman walk in, and an impeccably dressed and rather well built man. Kenshin couldn’t help but describe him in his mind as pretentious. They both paused in the doorway, obviously with each other, as unusual as that struck him. There was something…

The woman pointed her companion to the table in front of the window, and then sat across from him. They talked for a moment, and then both looked out the window...at the bookshop? Neither had ordered anything either, but James didn’t seem to notice.

Kenshin frowned.

  
  


* * *

**AZ Fell & Co. Books**

**Soho, London, England, Winter, 2019**

**Friday Evening**

Crowley was restless.

He couldn't shake the impression that they were being watched. I mean, obviously they were being watched, both of their former sides were no doubt just waiting for a way to get back at them. But who? Where? He started pacing again, up and down the length of the room where Aziraphael was reading. 

“Sit down, dearest. Pacing won’t help.”

Crowley growled to himself and flopped backward over the couch beside his Angel, in a position impossible to achieve with a human spine. “Why don’t we just go out, Angel? Sssitting here is driving me batty.”

Aziraphael lowered his book to his lap, turning his attention fully to Crowley who was currently watching him with a pleading look from upside down. He couldn’t help but smile, “Of course dear. Where would you like to go? The Ritz?”

“I don’t want to go that far. Besides, my car is still parked at my flat.”

“Hmm, perhaps the new Cafe? I am told they will have music tonight.” Well, he had seen their flyer when he went to get more eclairs. That was mostly like being told.

“But what if the Samurai is there?”

“He’s a nice boy. I’m sure he’d be willing to have tea again.” Poor lad.

“You can’t trust him, Angel. He’s something else. We don’t know where he fits into things.”

“Oh my dear, I’m sure he’s just as confused about that as we are.”

“Angel, you are too trusting.” Crowley’s words were harsh, but his tone was quiet, and his eyes soft. 

Aziraphale just smiled at him like the sunshine, melting the snow.

“Fiiiinnnne.”

“Very well dearest, Let’s go.”

  
  


* * *

**Screamin’ Beans Coffee and Tea**

**Soho, London, England, Winter, 2019**

**Friday Evening**

Kenshin was behind the counter, helping with drink orders. If James was going to do this regularly, he would need to hire more staff. Kenshin however was enjoying himself, and besides, this location gave him a clear view of the window table and it’s odd occupants. When he pointed out that they hadn’t ordered, James had just said they were probably waiting for the band to start. 

Kenshin finished preparing the cappuccino, handing it to the man who had ordered, before returning his attention to the two staring out the window. There was something about that woman - man - woman? _ Wait.. _

It was as if looking directly at them made him uncomfortable, but now he was aware of it, and so suddenly it didn’t bother him anymore. And then he _ noticed _ , something was _ moving _ on her head. Something _ big. _

Oro! She turned to say something to the man, and he could clearly see it. It was a fly. A GIANT fly, about the size of a small dog. And not only that - he could see past the glamor to the filth and disease, and past the haze on the man to the sheen of brightness beyond the natural. He was _ too _ pristine. 

Kenshin immediately stepped around to the other side of the counter and placed himself between James and the…whatever they were at the table, but tried to do it quietly, so that Jamie wouldn’t notice. James would never forgive him if he made a scene. He had too much wrapped up on tonight going well.

With a sigh, Kenshin grabbed a wet rag and went to “clear” the tables, giving himself a chance to confront the two who were lurking by the window. 

He stepped directly up to the table, avoiding those standing in the now crowded room. Placing both hands on the surface of the booth, he leaned slightly forward. His height was of no advantage in a moment like this, but Kenshin was very familiar with how to ensure his presence was felt. 

They looked up at him in surprise.

“Good Evening.” Kenshin said evenly.

Beelzebub blinked. And Gabriel frowned at zir, “I thought you said no one would see us.”

Kenshin ignored him, and continued, “I do not know what purpose you have here, I do not. But I would take it amiss if you do anything that will make the owner upset.” His attention shifted fully to the...woman? “I know you are both not what you seem. I care not who you are, or why you are here, but you will keep the peace.” He couldn’t help but glance at the fly on their head, an action which seemed to alarm them both further. 

“Why should we care about if the owner is upset or not. He’s only human.” The man added in a dry tone and sticking out his chin, his smile never reaching his eyes. This one _ felt _ similar to Mr. Fell, only colder.

Kenshin turned his full attention to the man, his eyes flashing briefly to amber, which caused Mr. Jaw to raise an eyebrow. “Because I asked you nicely.” They glanced at each other, seemingly unsure how to react to Kenshin and then the fly women nodded once.

“Good.” Kenshin smiled sharply and turned around, only to come face to face with someone who had not been there a moment before, and who he hadn’t noticed approach. “Oro!” he cried, and simultaneously shifted into a defensive stance, striking forward with the heel of one hand. 

“Damn” The man cried, staggering back and was caught by the man behind him. It was then that Kenshin noticed the man he had hit was Crowley, and the man who had caught him was Aziraphael.

“Oro!! I am so sorry! You startled me!”

Crowley coughed and stood up, rubbing his sternum. “What are they doing here?” he growled, at the same time as Aziraphael said, “Oh, well no real harm done dear boy.”

Mr. Fell then noticed the two at the table, who were looking much like children who had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. His eyes narrowed. And Kenshin immediately understood that there was _ Power _ under the kind bookkeeper facade - or perhaps like him, they were one and the same, depending on what was needed.

Kenshin lifted his hands placatingly, “Please, Mr. Fell, Mr. Crowley. As I was telling these two...” he glanced at the table, where they were both sitting very still, “- others here, I would take it amiss if anything were to upset the owner today. If you wish to stay, you need to keep the peace.”

Crowley blinked, as if surprised that Kenshin had not only recognized the others for what they were, but that he had confronted them.

Mr. Fell just beamed. “Oh, that’s lovely!” He nudged Crowley, “Isn’t it my dear, he just wants to keep the peace.”

“Crowley coughed, “Ah.. yes.” His eyes narrowed at the other two again, “Lovely.”

Kenshin shifted his position so he could look at all four of them, his voice and expression hardening again into what his Nephew liked to call his “Murder Face”, “So well will all be friendly we will, is that not so?” 

Mr. Fell continued beaming. Kenshin took that as a yes.

Fly headed...person continued glowering, but nodded again.

Crowley...was obviously going to stick with Mr. Fell. Kenshin continued staring at him and eventually he gave a curt nod.

Mr. Jaw gave a pretend smile and also nodded.

“Do you wish to sit together?” Kenshin asked.

“No!..I mean, no - we would rather sit by ourselves, if that is alright?” Mr Fell replied. He heard a snort from the two at the table, but wasn’t sure which one.

Kenshin led the two over to his corner table, which was still empty because he was usually sitting in it and the regulars knew better. They sat, Crowley immediately taking the corner seat that Kenshin usually sat in, and placing his back against the wall. The bookseller sat in the other wall seat, and rather cheerfully placed his hands on the table.

Kenshin smiled more naturally at the both of them, “I’ll be right back with your order.” He turned and headed to the counter - he may not trust them entirely, but at least he thought they were mostly just trying to care for each other. He could respect that. Even if not having answers to his lingering questions burned at him.

James pulled him aside for a moment when he got back to the counter, “What was all that?”

Kenshin smiled at him and gave him a sideways hug, “Do not worry Jamie. They just do not seem to get along, and wished to sit in different places. I am trying to make sure things go smoothly for you tonight.”

James smiled unsurely, but his attention was pulled back to the counter to continue helping customers. His friend Sarah was late, who was supposed to come help Kenshin with the orders while James went to play with the band. 

The rest of the band started a warm-up set, while Kenshin pulled some eclairs from the case, made some drinks, prepared a second plate with a couple of scones, and then walked over to the Jaw and Fly-person’s table. He had noticed both of whom were glancing frequently at the corner table while they talked. “Here is a cappuccino and some green tea with lemon. These are blueberry scones. Take whichever you’d prefer - or if you would like something else, you can order at the counter. You will look more normal if you at least hold a drink.” He quirked his lips in a half smile, and left them both staring at him as he walked away. He didn’t see them both pick up a cup.

Sara walked in and gave him a wave as she moved toward the counter. He nodded and smiled to acknowledge her and weaved through the crowd to the corner table. The band started to play.

“Here you go.” He said over the band when he reached the table.

“Oh, how did you know?!” Aziraphael beamed at him as he set a bottle of moscato and two glasses on the table, along with the Eclairs. Kenshin and Crowley just shared a look, and Kenshin smirked briefly before heading to help with the counter.

  
  


* * *

**Screamin’ Beans Coffee and Tea**

**Soho, London, England, Spring, 2025**

**Friday Evening ( Five and a bit years later)**

Somehow, Screamin’ Beans had become a sanctuary of sorts. For the first year or so, Kenshin had needed to ‘remind’ those _Others_ that came in that this was somewhere they must keep the peace, regardless of their personal preferences or views. Now they had all sorts of visitors and regulars. James had become friends with Mr. Fell and Crowley, and It had taken on a life of its own. He hired additional help that may or may not be human, and those within reminded new visitors if needed on their own. 

One side of the room was decorated in every type of religious symbol available, ranging from buddhist to christian to shinto and satanist and everything in between. The other side of the room was now covered in band posters and photos from bands who had gotten their start on the friday night live music nights, including James’ own band, who had just returned from a tour of Asia. Visitors were welcome to bring trinkets and symbols of their own beliefs to add to the wall. The ceiling had prayer flags and rainbow flags and other random decorations framing the stage in front of the lights.

Eventually, Kenshin had found out just what Crowley and Aziraphael were - at least in their lexicon. They’d had a long conversation about what he might be besides human, and hadn’t really been able to come up with anything definitive. Best guess is that (according to them) he was around for some unknown purpose, and so likely would be around until that purpose was fulfilled. Many bottles of excellent wine had been consumed while discussing what his ancestors may have had in store for him, along with their own plans for the future. Crowley had assured him he’d keep an eye on the cafe. He may not see them often, but he would count them among his few friends.

Tonight was the return show for Jamie’s band, open to friends and family along with their guests. Kenshin stopped at the door to greet Anathema, who was screening entry. He was looking forward to picking up their discussion of which creatures were absolutely myth and which might really exist. Paul, James’ father sat in a chair nearby, nursing a large mug of beer. 

Kenshin had returned to teach at Oxford once the business was on its feet, but he liked to come back to visit, especially nights like this. Gabriel was in the corner table with Zir, both with a drink looking ‘normal’. Crowley was doing magic tricks with Adam for one of the younger Greens, and Zira was chatting with James about something while the band set up. Everyone had a neutral and safe space here, at least for now - in this cafe club in the middle of Soho.

His life may not be normal, but it was precious. 

Kenshin smiled brightly as Anathema turned to the next guest, stepped inside and enjoyed the warmth of watching his family and friends, and went to join them.


End file.
